


The Butcher

by WonderShark



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Short One Shot, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderShark/pseuds/WonderShark
Summary: The whispers always came to him, beckoning him to do their job. He always listens.A commission of an individual's fan made killer, The Butcher. Goal was to make it short and sweet.





	The Butcher

At first, the whispers irritated him. They were divergent, definitely not his own; they asked things of him that he wouldn’t do normally. He first tried to resist them, ignore them and cast them out of his mind. He hadn’t been prepared for the pain. It was beyond physical pain; it was as if his very existence was being torn and twisted. When he obeyed them, the pain stop. Relief was tied with obedience, and obedience was tied to pleasure. If he listened to the whispers and did what it asked, it allowed him off his leash for a small moment, a break in which his mind was again his own. These small moments of silence in his own mind made it worth it. He heeded the whispers when they spoke, following their instructions precisely and accurately. This eventually left him in a cycle; pleasing the whispers which let him please himself. The whispers told him many things, led him to many places. He came across those who were like him, those who feared him, and those who were unlike anything else. In the end he followed, going wherever it beckoned him next. Finally, they led him here. It was a derelict building, forming what could’ve been a hospital ward. Broken IV drips were strewn on the floor, plants that seemed to be stuck between life and death littered empty reception rooms. The entirety of the place wasn’t empty though. He sensed them. It was a odd sensation, a prickling in his mind he couldn’t fully understand. All he knew was that they were there. Ready for him.

 

_Yes. They’re there. Hear them run._

_Praying to their machine gods for redemption._

_Get them._

The whispers didn’t have to finish. He was off, winding through sick bays and reception desks. He followed his instincts, the marks on the walls and floors they left behind creating a trail. Finally, he entered a waiting area that had seen better days. Chairs were tossed aside, tables flipped and broken. In the corner of the room sat a vending machine, it’s light still operable as it illuminated a green energy drink. To anyone else, they would’ve judged it to be a empty room and left. But not him. Something was there. **Someone**. Hiding behind the vending machines. Breathing hard. Terrified. Delicious. He overstayed in his hiding spot- unaware that running was the best option. With a yank he was out, thrashing against his shoulders in an attempt to get free. He was lively, but too much to the point it irritated him. He pulled out his cleaver from his pocket, its edge serrated after countless cycles of sharpening and dulling. It sliced into his leg easily, causing an agonizing gasp to escape from his prey. His struggling ceased slightly, but he still thrashed in what could only feel like the struggling of an ant before it was stomped on. The whisper returned, guiding his movements.

 

_Go now. Hook him._

_Offer his blood._

_Sate our hunger._

 

He obeyed, a dark energy fueling his footsteps. It wasn’t long before he came across one, dripping with the blood of past victims. The hooks were more than their physical appearance; they were deliverance, a testing ground. To see if these prey had the power to stand against that which watched over them, the sanity to withstand the whispers that sang into his ear. He raised the injured figure in his arms, angling his shoulder directly against the hook. The anticipation was too much. His arms trembled, adrenaline flowed in his veins. He had to do this. The man looked at him, eyes desperately pleading to not commit the action he was about to do. He didn’t return the look. In one swift movement, he was thrown down. A sickening, wet piercing sound rang out as the hook stabbed through his shoulder, causing a blood curdling scream to escape from his mouth. He struggled at first, grasping at the hook that protruded from his shoulder. He tried to raise himself, unhook his body from the death trap he was caught in. He observed, watching as if the man was a fly stuck in a spider’s web. True enough, the spider arrived. Limbs manifested from the hook, and pierced the man in various regions of his chest. Slowly, the man thrashed, but his energy was gone. This Entity was feasting on him, taking everything it could before it disposed of him like a empty shell.

 

_Good, good._

_His blood is ours._

_Be rewarded, child of the Entity._

_You sustain us._

 

He watched the Entity feast, and his promised reward came in the form of the deafening silence. The whispers receded, giving him the moment of isolation he craved. In these small moments he was left to his own thoughts, his own machinations. He thought back to every kill, to the moments he loved and cherished. He didn’t think of these memories when the whispers were in his mind. These fleeting thoughts were his, and only his. He wouldn’t give everything he had. The sound of footsteps echoed through a hall, breaking the silence he was reflecting in. He felt the all-encompassing presence slip back into his mind, and he pushed the previous thoughts away.

 

_More. Hear them. Sense them._

_See how they run from you, child?_

_They underestimate you._

_Get them._

He was already moving.


End file.
